Straight from the Emerald Isle, I am in England! Fortunately the country is helping me make the adjustment by changing the Irish pub on every corner to a British tea shop. Now I just need to stop asking for a pint of Earl Grey and I will be all set.
Not sure I had any expectations of my first UK stop, Bristol. My Airbnb host in Belfast told me I would love it, but she went to university there and I felt there was some strong bias going on. Honestly, nothing I read online or in the guidebooks really lived up to the reality. Bristol is a unique hodgepodge of old world architecture meets twenty-first century street art.
The room I rented was in an old Victorian house right next to St. Andrews Park (pretty close to city centre). The host of the house was a soft-spoken Englishwoman who made dinner in the evenings for residents and wished you a nice day in the morning. It was all genteel and quiet and lovely.
On my first outing, I headed to the city centre down a street lined with picturesque Victorian homes when I turned a corner and BAM! Color explosion. The garages and walls of the street were covered with graffiti. Actually, graffiti is not the right word. This was more. It was art. Simple messages such as, “No Parking,” were shared through a dining scene with Wallace and Gromit. Shop fronts, alleys, door steps – they all served as blank canvases for the artists of Bristol to share political messages or just create. This made the city one of the coolest museums.
Within the kaleidoscope of art, the history of Bristol is still at its center. From the grandeur of the University of Bristol to Bristol Cathedral to the historic homes that give you a glimpse into 18th century life, the clash of past and present are woven together seamlessly.
My personal favorite area of Bristol, and a perfect example of past meets present, was St. Nicholas Markets. The market was established in 1743 and consists of narrow, cobble-stoned alleyways of shops and hallways lined with stalls serving up incredible food. It gets pretty packed at lunch, so I tried to visit around two in the afternoon. Walking the area you can envision with clarity what it must have been like to shop there in the 1700’s, but to keep you grounded in the 21st century, some stalls sold iphone chargers to replace the one you lost. Local jewelry, purses, clothes, you-name-it could also be found as you wandered the stalls. I could easily spend an entire afternoon in the area eating and shopping my heart out.
Which leads me to the most memorable part of my Bristol trip. I am not proud of it. It does not reflect well on my ability for self control, but here it is: The most memorable part of Bristol for me is that it is where I ate my face off.
I have no idea when or how it happened, but whatever signal the stomach sends to the brain saying, “Put the fork down and step away from the plate,” was broken. The food was so damn tasty! I ate until I had to roly-poly myself on out.
My first gluttonous experience was at St. Nicholas Market. I came across a pie shop called Pieminister that had sweet and savory options. I went for the vegetarian pie filled with sweet potatoes, spinach, and feta cheese. Sounds good, right? Well, the guy at the counter tells me they are running a special and for 6 pounds I could get the pie on top of a bed of mashed potatoes, topped with mashed peas, and covered with vegetarian gravy and cheese. (Literally, I just started salivating reliving this.) No brainer, that was a hell of a deal and I love all of those things. I was sold.
The plate arrived and it tasted as delicious as it looked. I dived in and ate, and ate, and ate until only streaks of gravy were remaining. It was so good and I was so painfully full. I had a good 30 minute walk to where I was staying and I had no idea how I was going to wobble all the way there much less hoist myself off the stool I perched on. After a strong heave-ho, I worked my way off the stool and started walking. I figured the walk would help but this was like Thanksgiving full on steroids. I couldn’t do it. I walked maybe 10 minutes and called an Uber. That’s right, I ate so much pie that I required an Uber pick-up.
I would say that was rock bottom, but the few days I was in Bristol were a whirlwind of falafel bowls and baklava and skinny fries and feta pies and smoothies (I was feeling healthy that day)…there was just too much to choose from and it was all delicious, so I chose it all. Uber and I became real close in Bristol. Sadly, they were my food designated drivers getting me safely home when I overindulged.
Thankfully for my waistline (not so much for Uber), I am moving on to Bath to hopefully reign it in and utilize the city’s hills to undo the damage caused in Bristol. In fact, to get a head start I was doing squats the entire time I was writing this.
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